Date: Sat, 23 Jul 2011 23:16:10 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bob Archman
Subject: Catfish Visits a Castle 4
Catfish Visits a Castle 4
By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or
bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a
discussion of safe sex. If you have, any comments send them to
bldhrymn@yahoo.com
The storm and the damage it caused were good for me. All the ridged rules
that separated the Castle staff from the outdoor staff vanished. The
basement was flooded, the roof damaged and the lights were off. Downed
trees cut off the road and access.
I knew how to run a generator and had no problem mucking around in the
basement or putting a tarp over a hole in the roof. Trevor and Ferdinand
were worth shit in an emergency, so Otis and Dugan, the cook, took
charge. Otis I expected; Dugan was surprise. As a chef, Dugan was
accustomed to running things and he was decisive and sensible. I had
thought he was too swishy, but he told me you couldn't be a chef if you
can't deal with emergencies.
I was in a good position for another reason. I knew the boys were limited
intellectually, but they weren't the only ones. Most of the outdoor staff
and security people were borderline, either due to mental limitations of
serious lifestyle problems. Drugs and booze have side effects and these
effects were evident.
Trevor was cheap, and he was a bottom feeder when it came to the staff.
They were willing to accept low wages for anything that could be called a
job. Just watching a generator and refilling the gas tank was too much for
most of them. Butch misunderstood the instruction of "let it cool down
before you put gasoline in the tank." It caused a fire and not an
explosion, but that wasn't good.
Dugan had a good assistant chef, Bruno, and a good Pastry Chef, Elise, who
were helpful. The rest were worker bees. Otis and I were the only ones
willing to get dirty. I think Dugan and his staff would have been willing
in a pinch, but it wasn't in their nature.
Otis took charge of clearing the roads and the worst of the downed trees. I
ran the generators that in turn ran the pumps draining the basement. Trevor
wanted the generators for the outlets in the house, but Otis told him that
if the electrical service in the basement corroded, the entire electrical
system would be shot.
The weather cooperated sort of. While it was hot, it was dry. We opened the
windows of the castle to air the place and get some of the humidity out.
The house had a central sky lighted stair hall. I opened the roof vents and
air flowed through the house. The musty smell began to dissipate.
I had two generators going running pumps. I could hear chainsaws as they
began to clear the road. We got about two hours of power on a full tank so
I went to the roof to see what could be done about the leaks. Dugan sent
Bruno to help me. He was a beefy Italian man who had some common sense.
Bruno had not been out of the kitchen and dining room area so he was
interested in the rest of the castle. I discovered most of the leaks were
due to clogged downspouts and gutters, rather than roof damage. Bruno got
some tongs and spits for roasting whole pigs from the kitchen. We solved a
few big problems with that.
I had to refill the gas tanks so I left Bruno on the roof as I took care of
business at the generators. Casey and Trevor were waiting for me. They were
pissed as hell. They wanted me to watch the generators. I told them I had
to check on the pumps and relocate them and asked if they could help. I
knew the answer, but they left rather than help. That too, I had
guessed. They only needed to face the possibility of work to be scared
off. Casey was drunk as a skunk, and I think Trevor had used Casey's
approach to stress management too. He seemed a bit unsteady.
I turned off the generators to let them cool off before refueling. I then
rearranged the pumps in the basement. When I got back to the generators, I
met Billy-Bob. Trevor sent him to "straighten me out." Billy-Bob was a
redneck's redneck, ignorant, stupid and damn proud of it. He was a bruiser,
big and muscular. From the look of his face, he lost more fights than he
won.
He wanted me to refuel the generators now. I told them they needed to cool
some more. He went over and twisted the cap and burned his hand. Billy-Bob
went off to lick his wounds. I noticed something strange in the basement
and went back. The floors were all sloped slightly to the middle of the
room.
The floors were covered in modern, inexpensive vinyl. In the middle of the
room, I guessed there would be a drain, covered by the vinyl. I called
Dugan to take a look. He had a knife. He cut away the vinyl and opened the
drain. A half hour later we had the basement draining through the floor
drains.
I then went to hook up the generator to a switch in the electrical room
that powered a few of the fixtures in the house. The generators were
comparatively small, but they powered some lights and outlets for a radio
and television set. That made life inside the Castle better.
This turned me into the hero of the day. Dugan moved a few steps higher on
my list of good people when he told Sheila I was the one who discovered the
drains. Sheila actually thanked me for fixing the drains. She was pleased.
Trixie appeared and Sheila told her I had fixed the electricity. She
smiled, but I don't think she noticed the problems with the electricity.
The ovens and stoves used propane, so cooking was possible. As the freezers
and refrigerators were defrosting, there would be a lot of food to eat. I
returned to the roof to work on the drains. I found Bruno, shirtless
sunning himself behind a chimney.
I remembered one of the great porn stars of my younger years was named
Bruno. My Bruno's face didn't look like him at all. His body was a dead
ringer. He was buffed and fur covered, with a six pack abs and massive
chest.
"Damn, you've been lifting more than pastries," I said. Bruno smiled.
"There's not much to do here," he said. "They have an old fashioned gym."
"It looks like the old equipment still works,' I said.
"All my equipment works too." Bruno said. "Bruno told me you were an
open-minded man."
"I take it you are open-minded too?"
"I go with the flow," he replied. "I love being milked and having a guy
suck up my ball scum. I like feeding people."
"I have a warm spot for cock caviar," I said. Bruno dropped his pants and I
helped him out. He was ripe and ready. He was just the right size for deep
throating. One size bigger and I wouldn't have been able to take it. I
swallowed him and tweaked his nips. Bruno soon began to spurt.
I like man seed, but it's not on the top of my list of exciting things. I
get much more excited by wedging my cock in a tight ass, or sixty-nining.
When Bruno began to shoot, I got into it. I'm not sure if it was his
resemblance to the porn star, of if it was me being in a good mood. Cocks
can't talk, but they can communicate. I could taste Bruno's excitement.
He shot a good load and I didn't swallow right away. I saved it in my
mouth, enveloping his cock in his own warm and slippery man seed. I licked
his knob, and damn if he didn't start shooting again. As far as I could
tell this was a full-scale orgasm, not just a utility ejaculation used to
clear out the sperm left over from the main event. I tend to like men like
Bruno anyway, but sucking him as he ejaculated a quart or two of his
special sauce did nothing to reduce my attraction to him.
"Damn, that was good," Bruno moaned. I pulled off still sucking in the
remains of his last orgasm. I worked my tongue into his foreskin and gave
his knob a few more licks. He ejaculated again forcefully. He was good to
the last drop.
"I'll take care of you, if you want?" he asked. Bruno wasn't sincere about
that. He was drained and the urge was gone. I appreciated the offer. He
was polite enough to ask.
"If you don't mind, I'll take a rain check," I said. "I like to really get
it on another time when we have some time."
Bruno smiled at me. "That sounds good to me. I'm game." He was sincere
about that. We returned to the roof leaks. We got most of the roof drains
working again and tarps over the damaged areas of the roof.
By four, we were off the roof and Bruno was in the kitchen cooking
dinner. I refueled the generators and went back to my room. The freezers
were thawing so Dugan was cooking food before it went bad. That meant
dinner was going to be good. Otis came by and said Dugan would send food to
the security people, the grounds crew, the boys, and the castle staff.
Someone was worried the staffs would intermix, so they were kept
separate. Otis and I were to eat with the grounds staff. That was fine for
me, but I did wonder what use the separation served. I had a little while
to use my cell phone and told my office about the meth lab and the drug
stash. I had assumed the Castle staff was in charge of the meth lab, but it
could have been run the security people. The security men I had met all
looked as if drugs had played a role in their lives.
There would have been some value in separating the drug staff from the rest
of the people at the Castle to keep world of the drug operation leaking
out. If Trevor and Ferdinand used the castle staff as a personal harem, you
wouldn't want them to mix with the peasants. Buster told me many of the
men were gay, but that wouldn't preclude a trip to the other side. Straight
men often dabbled in gay sex; it operates the other way too.
The grounds staff was the last to get food, as we were the low men on the
totem pole. I knew the boys and Otis. The there were three additional
gardeners and two general repair people. They were a sad looking
group. They didn't have the Boys' major problems, but they were limited to
menial jobs. I talked with a gardener named Tommy. He was getting less
than minimum wage due to fees deducted from his pay for housing.
Dugan did not skimp at all. There was lobster and shrimp as well as steaks
and a pork roast. Most of the men had never eaten so well. It was a good
night. Trevor came by to look us over, but I realized he simply wasn't a
leader of men. It had been a hard day of work, but he couldn't actually
thank anyone or say "job well done."
By 9:30 everyone was full and sleepy. It had been a long day after a
sleepless night. I went to my room and called my office. I had to report
in and give and update. I was afraid my cell phone batteries were running
low. It turned out my anal-retentive business manager who tended to drive
me crazy had slipped in extra batteries and a small hand charger in my
overnight bag.
Dennis, my overnight man, was good, knew whom to call about the drug stuff,
and would get someone to check out the involuntary servitude aspect of the
Castle. I gave him the names of as many of the men I could remember. I
wondered how many had criminal records.
I stripped and went to bed, but before I could get to sleep, there was a
gentle rapping at my door. It was Bruno. He said he wanted to suck me off,
but I suspected he wanted to be drained again. We had a low-intensity but
high-pleasure session. He had shot off earlier on the roof, so it took some
time to coax his sperm from his balls.
Bruno wasn't really a sucker; he liked to use his tongue to explore my
cock, balls and asshole. His own organ oozed and dribbled the entire
time. I liked that. Bruno really liked my hole. I asked if he would like
to poke me and make a deposit. It took him no more than two or three
seconds to get his knob in my ass.
He only knob fucked me; he didn't go deep. I found out he wanted his sperm
in no more than a tongue's depth in my ass. Bruno shot off and then licked
up his cream from my ass. He was driven and wanted to make sure he got each
little drop of sperm from my hole.
I sucked Bruno again and he was still, fully loaded. At first I thought he
was like those instantaneous water heaters that produce hot water in
demand. He seemed to have an instantaneous semen maker. He later told me
he had been in a long dry spell, and I was getting old sperm, stored up in
his balls. While I'm not a cum hound, I liked Bruno and it was good for me.
He left and I fell asleep.
He next day was spent cleaning up. There was no major damage, but in a
place as big as the Castle minor damage mounted up. The radio said it would
be another day or two before the roads across the mountain were cleared and
weeks before the main highway was open again. We were still isolated.
Late in the day two Forest Rangers visited. They had off track vehicles
that didn't need roads. I recognized one of them. Hal Cawthorn was a State
trooper who specialized in illegal drugs. My call to the office had
results.
His partner, Rory Smith occupied Trevor and Ferdinand while Hal went off
looking at damage. He saw me and I went off to the pump house. He followed
me once he got out of sight of the Castle. I gave him a quick rundown. The
pills were in a flooded area but they were in metal shelves so they weren't
damaged.
The lab was out of operation. It would need to be dried out and cleaned
before it would be usable. As far as I could tell, no one had made any
efforts in that direction. I didn't know if the Castle domestic staff or
the security staff was involved in the lab. I was quite sure the gardeners
and grounds staff wasn't. I also told him about the involuntary servitude
aspect of the place. Some of the staff wasn't being paid. He was interested
in that.
Hal hoped we could get both the supplier of the drugs and the distribution
network. When the roads reopened, they would watch the traffic to the
Castle and see how the drugs got to the estate and then out to the
users. Hal was direct and fast. He returned to his partner quickly before
Trevor noticed he was gone.
I was just cleaning up bush and fallen tree limbs so I had some good
thinking time. Trixie DeMont had fallen into the grips of a bad crowd. I
assumed the drug dealing came from Trevor who had a background as a nurse.
Trevor had sexual problems too. For a man who liked to dominate women, his
drug interests could be helpful too. I had noticed the Castle residents,
other than the kitchen staff, were quiet and the place was silent. Now that
all the windows were open, you still never heard conversation not to
mention laughter. Perhaps they were just reserved, but they could be
sedated. Trixie certainly was.
It seemed to me that Trixie was a big fish to catch, a fish with hundred
million in the bank. Why would anyone who was after her money, still do
drugs? From what I saw in the basement, this was not a small operation. It
certainly wasn't purely for domestic consumption. Old habits die hard, but
I certainly wouldn't put Trixie's millions in jeopardy for a Hillbilly
Heroin operation.
Another possibility occurred to me. Could there be an as yet unknown
Mr. Big. Were Trevor and Ferdinand simply soldiers for a major crime boss?
Nothing I had observed about Trevor or Ferdinand suggested leadership
abilities of any sort. They fit the pattern of small-time con men out for a
buck. Neither man was particularly bright or clever. They seemed
ineffectual to me.
The entire operation was a joke. Any real criminal organization would
never allow me to work there without references and a complete background
check. On paper, the place was heavily guarded, but security is based on
the quality of the individual guards and quality of leadership. A Girl
Scout camp with a 67-year-old retired gentleman as a guard was more
effective than Casey's collection of drugged out clowns.
Perhaps the Castle was not the center of a drug empire, but a minor colony?
There is some advantage for a large crime organization to be decentralized
and to minimize the interaction from the top to the peons below. There is
much less chance of the peons squealing on the higher ups. Perhaps this was
a franchise operation. Trevor could have been a psychiatric nurse goon bad
with a basement lab in a ranch house. He had now moved up in the world,
but he still was intellectually a small time crook.
On paper, everything at the Castle looked good. If you made a quick visit,
the secluded location, the guards and locked vaults in the basement all
would have been impressive. A reclusive widow provided a good cover story
for the conditions at the Castle.
Finding Hal Cawthorn, the trooper, here was a clue. I had called the office
the day before. He was in disguise and at the Castle the next day. He must
have been on the case already, waiting for a break. The State Police
respond to emergencies quickly, but this wasn't an emergency and with the
disruption caused by the storm, their plate was full. Someone knew this was
important.
The next day brought more visitors to the Castle. Highway department
officials came by asking that a part of the castle grounds be used as a
staging area for a crew clearing and rebuilding the badly damaged
interstate. Most of the property was wooded, but there was a meadow like
area at the entrance.
Ferdinand rejected that request out of hand. One of the officials told him
they were just being polite. The cleared area originally had been a CCC
camp during the construction of the Blue Ridge Parkway. It actually
belonged to the Park Service. They would use it regardless and were just
trying to minimize the disruption to life at the castle. Ferdinand huffed
and puffed but the official had the documentation and the property plats to
prove his contention.
Rockslides blocked the highway on western slope of the mountain. The
eastern slope was open. Equipment and trailers arrived that afternoon. The
equipment was huge. This was earth and rock moving equipment, not just
your basic bulldozers. I just happened to notice one of the men who
staffed the office was a trooper and another was a DEA agent from Richmond.
They retained the Castle entrance but the trailer had complete visual
overview. Generator powered security lights were everywhere. It was a
major highway and clearing operations would go on 24/7. I did not know
where the cameras were, but I knew there was a snapshot of the license of
every car entering the Castle grounds.
The construction crew put up a temporary communication antenna. The
mountain was between cell towers and cell service was erratic. I assumed it
also tapped the castles cell phones. The construction manager, Olin Miller,
asked if he could use the Castle's wells for water. Trevor said no. Olin
told us it would be a week before electricity was restored to the Castle,
but he could get us diesel fuel for our main generator. Olin was a
mountain boy with the accent to prove it. I don't think Trevor considered
the hick had an ulterior motive. He decided to take the fuel.
Trevor agreed to allow a tank truck to fill up twice a day in exchange for
the fuel. I was not completely surprised when the driver of the water truck
was the DEA agent.
Our generator was a first cousin to the Heavens Curse. It was both moody
and erratic, so I had to baby sit it and go to the Castle to reset the
fuses after every power interruption. The Castle had fuses and not circuit
breakers. It was that out of date.
Trevor and Casey wanted to make sure the Water truck driver did nothing
except fill the truck. The assigned me the task of watching him. This gave
me the chance of talking things over with Phil, the DEA agent twice a day
without suspicion. It was all I could ask for.
Phil looked the part of a rough construction worker. DEA agents can be up
tight, but Phil could have tricked me if I hadn't known him in Richmond. He
knew me by sight, but we had never met. Here he was the truck driver and
the night watchman. Officially, he was off in the morning, but he was
working double shifts to cover the cost of a bad divorce. Phil wanted it to
be known he tended to doze off in the early morning.
I let that information slip to Casey in a conversation. Casey seemed to
perk up at that news. I found out Phil was happily married in real life,
but he knew about my sexual inclinations. Phil let me know that just in
case I wanted to bed him. Generally, men come to me, so Phil didn't need to
worry.
Men who worry about gay men making passes at them are usually not quite as
straight as they think they are. Phil was one of those. Phil wasn't a jerk,
or an asshole. He was just conventional. The DEA and FBI tended to attract
men who are firm believers in convention, and not particularly self-aware.
Not being self-aware defined Phil. Oddly he was a bright and intelligent
man. He simply skipped the rule that self-awareness is the basis of all
knowledge. Luckily, Phil wasn't like the Republicans who reject all
evidence that doesn't confirm their preconceptions. Facts were facts to
Phil.
We talked a lot and my suspicions on the case were new to him, but
interesting. He had assumed this was a standalone operation, but my guesses
made sense to him. We got along well. While he was refilling his water
tanks, Bruno came to deliver lunch. I was chained to the nearby generators,
and couldn't eat with the grounds staff.
It was a hot day, with no clothes washing possible, Bruno was shirtless.
Phil took one glance at Bruno and was in love. Phil discovered his gay
side. I don't usually play cupid, but I felt the urge to help Phil.
Phil wasn't attractive in the centerfold way. He was good enough looking,
but he exuded masculinity. You knew he was all man. You could almost smell
it. I saw Bruno glance at Phil when Phil wasn't looking. Bruno knew that
being ultra male didn't preclude having a taste for men. I was Bruno's
last delivery so he hung around. Soon the two men were talking.